September Third
by Jysella
Summary: in honor of a birthday not remembered R&R onegai


All character within this fic. are property of CLAMP- and Kodashana and a certain dubbing company that shall henceforth remain unmentioned- all hail the almighty CLAMP! This is in honor of Tomoyo's birthday, although I wrote it for an anime con contest that I arrived at too late to enter, damned traffic, sadly though certain characters are not themselves. Don't blame me it's the authors fault, wait.  
  
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September third  
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The alarm lazed loudly, chirping it's tormenting song in tones loud enough to pull a person from deaths edge, either that or knock them further towards it. Next to the accursed clock a young girl bolted upright and looked about her room. Her eyes, delicate lavender, had stormy dark circles beneath them. The girl yawned, looking at her clock that continued to bleat out its existence, and stretched a thin hand to quiet the demonic ring. Her hand stopped short as her gauzy nightdress pulled from her wrist, hanging listlessly a few inches from the clock.  
  
The entire room hung in silence, with the exception of the ever-annoying alarm, waiting for the girl's decision; was it worth it to reach the few inches left, or was even such effort too much? In a jerky burst of energy the girl reached the few extra inches, betraying angry red scars running the length of her thin pale wrist, and knocked the alarm to the floor. The doomed object continued it's mournful siren until it shattered upon the hard wood floor. The girl jumped up at the sound, her eyes taking upon a shocked look, and reached her small hand towards her mouth.  
  
The pale ivory cream color of her hands matched exactly that of her face, blending in almost complete perfection. Although she had no clock to look at, with hers currently in pieces on the floor, she knew it to be late, very late. In a sudden flurry of activity the girl rushed of her bed, deftly avoiding the crushed clock that littered her floor, in the direction of her desk.  
  
As she walked across her large room her gauzy dress, a remainder of the nights activities, flowed behind her, tearing in the debris of a tired mind. The dress was lavender, much the same as her room and eyes, and overly large, flowing from the girls delicately thin shoulders and frame. Despite it's largeness, or perhaps because of it, the dress highlighted the hollow look the girl flung about the room. Her cheeks, her eyes, her body; all so thin. The girl, in transit across her large room, stepped on the train of the dress drawing it closer to her chest and highlighting the ribs shining through the thin skin.  
  
She wasn't eating, or sleeping, and the lack shone even through the girl's obvious beauty. Slowly the girl came to a stop in front of a large antiquated chair and drew it across the floor the small distance it lay from her mirror, displacing a pink sewing project in the process, a gift for a childhood friend left unfinished, and sat down. In the mirror her face peered back at her, as she had never seen it before. Her cheeks had lost their fullness, her eyes their sparkle, her lips much of their color. Even her hair had lost it's usual luster, hanging in dark plum streaks down her face and shoulders, contrasting with her night dress. She looked sick, as sick as she felt inside. Her lips parted as she called, in a voice seemingly alien to her ears, a mantra that had ceased working weeks before.  
  
"Her happiness is my happiness"  
  
the words rang around the room, screaming with the same conviction of the now deceased alarm. They tormented her, searing their uselessness into her already tortured body. These words were no longer able to retain their meaning, no, not for weeks had their utterance enlightened the girls mood as they had for so many years in the past.  
  
The girl clutched her ears and turned to the mirror once more finding the face she had come to know so well, the face she could no longer stand. It stared sadly back at her, failing to smile at her secret prayer; failing as it always had and would always continue to do. She reached out and punched the face until it shattered in a shower of glass stinging her hands, arms and whatever else it rained upon. The girl's hands seeped blood and she watched the crimson river with a sad fascination.  
  
That was the answer. That must have been the answer, the only way out. She dropped to her knees and picked up a large glimmering piece of the mirror, it's edge gleaming with promise, and drew it across her wrist. As the blood pored out and darkness claimed her vision she smiled. Bittersweet release.  
  
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In an apartment blocks away a young girl shot awake and stared out of sleepless green eyes into a room done entirely in shades of green. She glanced over at a clock on the bedside table and found it to be much later then she had wanted to wake up, sighing she began to get out of bed but couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that the day was an important one. Furtively she glanced at a calendar propped up against a green wall but found nothing to be marked on the day. Still not at ease the amber haired girl rolled over in green covers to awaken her fiancé.  
  
"Syaoran" she called into the green darkness. The boy next to her grumbled slightly and sat up  
  
"Yes Sakura?" he asked patiently, annoyance flirting for a brief moment with his handsome features.  
  
"Was today important for some reason?" The boys face screwed up in concentration for a moment or two before his features were once again released to their chiseled looks.  
  
"I don't think so" he said beginning to get out of bed " how about we go out for breakfast?" he asked. Sakura looked at him quizzically "It's four," she said smiling at his ignorance, and the two shared a laugh.  
  
Blocks away Tomoyo Daidouji's blood soaked her carpet; her eighteenth year of life celebrated only by a large stain creeping further across the carpets lovely lavender surface. 


End file.
